An impressive cave appeared before Nova.

It had smooth, perfectly cut sandstone walls and was brightly lit by five giant glass bubbles that hung from the ceiling. Inside each bubble was a bright core that shed strong yellow light. Strong enough to pierce through the churning waves of water vapor and smoke that filled the cave.

Nova's teary eyes complained in pain, but he ignored it, staring at the bubbles with amazement. The intense light fascinated him, who had lived in darkness all his life.

Lamps. That was the name of those glass bubbles, or so he had been told the last time he had been here.

A single lamp shed more light than all of the Hub’s ethereal flames combined, and not even the grand bonfire lit during the Annual Glassbreaking Ceremony could compare.

Nova finally moved his eyes away from the lamps, unable to stare any longer.

Hundreds of copper pipes covered the cave's walls and ceiling. Every now and then, they shook, emitting high-pitched noises that were followed by intense vibrations that reverberated through the walls.

Steaming hot vapor escaped through the seams and weakest links on the pipes, increasing the temperature of the already hot, humid environment.

The pipes were connected to massive metal behemoths that lined up in two rows on the side of the cave. They were built out of intricate mechanical components and operating parts that turned, spun, and interlocked in almost perfect harmony.

Sweaty operators worked the machines, wearing thick leather aprons and tinged black scarves covering their mouths. Despite using thick gloves made of interlocked metallic rings, most were missing a few fingers.

Attached to each machine was a wide, iron axis connected to a giant metal press. An operator was responsible for arranging deformed lumps of metal and using the machine to flatten them into smooth, rectangular shapes.

They did so with practiced movements, maneuvering a set of rusty levers to work the press against the anvil below. The press came down rhythmically, effortlessly compressing the metal lumps in a couple of strikes.

A nearby operator noticed Nova’s presence and raised his hand in a greeting. Nova nodded with a smile. It was no use trying to talk here; there was too much noise.

He walked through the length of the cave, trying his best to avoid the thick puddles of black oil, and exited through a small corridor on the left.

Nova took a deep breath, breathing in the cooler, cleaner air, and moved along. Soon, he arrived at a small office, and after closing its thick metallic doors, the sound of the machinery was finally muffled.

Drenched in sweat, he took out his jacket and hung it on one of the chairs before sitting distractedly on the wide, wooden table, chewing on his lip.

Not long after, the door opened again, and three people entered. At the front were two familiar faces. One was a tall, sickly-thin man with yellow skin and long limbs, and the other a middle-aged woman with grayish-black hair and a smudged nose.

“Sticks, Talon,” Nova greeted them with a nod and a single, horizontal index finger over his chest. They greeted him with a smile and returned the gesture.

The last person was a young, brown-haired woman with ebony skin–a rarity on the 3rd floor. She had an impressive build, with broad shoulders and muscular arms, exposed by a sleeveless white shirt.

Around her waist was a leather apron, similar to the one used by the operators. It was tinged with burnt oil and blood, and on its front pocket, there was a rectangular-shaped lump.

She had all her fingers, but four of them were wrapped in dirty bandages.

Her sweaty clothes stuck to her body, outlining her generous curves, giving her an alluring, sensual look, intensified by her big and intense hazel-colored eyes.

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She closed the door with a bang and sat on the luxurious armchair behind the desk.

“Great to see you again,” she greeted with a weird accent.

“You’ve been working on your Miretongue, Alene,” Nova praised with a smile.

“Barely enough to understand you,” Alene confessed, this time using orthodox Labyrinthian—the most common tongue in the Labyrinth.

“Cut off the small talk,” Talon ordered with discontent. “We have less than a month until the prelude. Are you going to keep up your end of the bargain?”

Nova frowned. It was unlike Talon to act rashly, and they couldn’t afford to alienate Alene.

Alene laughed, causing Talon’s face to twist with anger.

Talon's fist banged loudly against the table. “Will you help us avoid the guardian or not?”

─ ⴵ─

“When are you going?” Stanton asked while busy cleaning a glass with a dirty rag. He had been polishing the same glass for the past half hour.

Nova grinned before downing the remainder of the burning liquor. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

Stanton scratched the blob of flesh on his face with his dirty fingernails. The noise alone disgusted Nova, and the thick, purplish pus dripping down his skin didn’t help either.

“I know what you’re doing,” He accused, pointing a pus-stained finger at Nova.

Nova didn’t miss the hint of paranoia in his voice. He stood up, alert, and checked him up and down. The man was only a Movement sympathizer. There was no way he knew about their plan, right?

Stanton grabbed the glass he had been polishing and hurled it violently at Nova, who dodged effortlessly.

Glass shards scattered across the tavern floor.

“If you dare to bring him here, I’ll kill him!” Stanton threatened before turning around and disappearing into a backroom.

Nova stood with his mouth open wide, trying to make sense of what Stanton had said. Eventually, he brushed the matter aside. He had been warned about Stanton’s psychotic outbursts the first time he had met him, and he had been fortunate not to encounter one until today.

He walked outside, where heavy rain poured from the sky, and thunderclouds mixed with the smoke above Shatterhold. Nova pulled his jacket up and buried his face into his collar before walking into the street.

The streets in the industrial district were deserted and dark; only the weak, ethereal lights lit up the way.

The rain seeped through Nova’s clothes, and he almost regretted not taking Alene’s shameless offer to spend the night. He laughed and rapidly shoved away those thoughts.

Alene was a pit of trouble, and he knew it. That was why he had rushed out of there as soon as the meeting ended, leaving Talon and Sticks to deal with her.

She did, however, have an incredible talent for creating and maintaining steam machinery.

Nearly ten years ago, the Movement's influence grew significantly, fueled by an endless supply of weapons. It wasn’t until Nova met Alene that he discovered the source of those weapons.

One of her machines could produce ten blades in the time it took a blacksmith to craft one. Although the quality was lacking, it was more than sufficient for the Epoch and other smaller gangs.

Now, after ten years, Nova wouldn’t be surprised if the Movement had already expanded the reach of their business to the floors below.

Working for the Movement, however, had its disadvantages.

If one was caught, he would be sent on a one-trip journey to Aeymenchuk. In Alene’s case, given the significance of her work and her position in the organization, she would be executed on the spot.

Nova knew she hadn’t gone to the Outside in years, afraid that the Watchers at the crossroads would detain her if she tried to leave.

And yet, all things considered, Nova still made sure to cultivate his relationship with her over time. After all, she was the only agent of the Movement he knew.

Unlike the First Epoch, which had fallen from grace after its failure some years ago, the Movement had grown rapidly, planting seeds of revolt everywhere in their bid to overthrow the Keepers' rule.

They were notorious for not holding back, even harming innocents, if it advanced their cause. Nova didn’t approve of their methods but had come to accept them.

Can the ends justify the means? Nova asked himself.

The rain seemed to slow down, and Nova raised his head in alert.

He felt a sharp gaze piercing his back with such intensity that his heart skipped a beat. His eyes darted through the darkness, scanning the alleys between the buildings.

There was no one. The streets were empty.

But the feeling was still there. Such a strong gaze, it almost burned a hole through his clothes. It almost felt like that of a wild beast, but it was unlikely that one had ventured into the city. With the flood season starting, they should be too busy breeding to stray so far from the stone forests.

Well, he was not going to wait to find out.

Nova ran down the street, sprinting as fast as he could before jumping into a labyrinth of narrow streets and dark alleys, hoping to outwit his pursuer.